Confessing
by smauglockbatch
Summary: Sherlock told Molly that he loves her. But she didn't come running into his arms like he had expected. She in fact went on to prove that she doesn't love him and that he has got it all wrong from the start. Sherlock knows she's lying. But he will be patient because he knows she won't be able to fight back for long. Sequel of Sharing
1. Chapter 1

_**Here's the continuation to "Sharing"! I decided to continue it under a new story because the story name "Sharing" didn't go well with how the story is developing. So here goes!**_

_**Hope you enjoy it!**_

_**I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters.**_

* * *

**Chapter One**

It had been two years since Molly had left Sherlock distraught in his mansion.

Two years since Sherlock had told her that he needed her.

Two years since he faked his death.

Two years since she had seen him.

And now he was standing in front of her in the locker room with a big goofy grin on his face.

"Hello, Molly."

"Sherlock! You're back!", Molly squealed and ran up to him. It had been so long since she had seen him. So long she had worried over his safety, where he was, was he even eating at all. Sometimes, she had even wished she would get some news from Mycroft or Sherlock himself that he was alright. That he was safe. Anyhow, here he was. Safe and lovely and…

"Whoa!", she gasped and quickly halted before she ran into his arms. Her left hand felt heavy and stepped back. Sherlock pouted at her but Molly chose to ignore it and instead focused her attention on his nose.

"What happened to your nose…oh…John?", a giggle burst from her mouth.

"John", he scowled and touched his tender nose.

"You deserved it", Molly smirked.

"But I did it for _him_! He was in danger!", Sherlock whined.

"Two years, Sherlock", Molly sighed. She knew it was useless to make him understand. He was immune and unaware of human feelings. She shook her head and walked back to the morgue with Sherlock at her heels.

"Molly…?", he whispered.

"Hmm?", she frowned as she picked up her unfinished paperwork.

"Umm…about what happened in Cumbria I-..", his sentence got choked up his throat when he saw something gleam in Molly's left hand. In Molly's left ring finger to be precise, "You got eng-engaged?"

"Oh..yeah, I did", she smiled brightly at him and turned her attention back to her paperwork.

"That's…nice. I'd like to meet him someday."

Molly's blood drained from her face and stood frozen at her spot, "No."

"Why not? You've already said yes to the _reunion_ Mrs. Hudson is hosting", he cocked his head to one side.

Molly gulped and stared ahead of her. Her fiancé...standing next to Sherlock…she couldn't imagine what would happen next. Series of insults aimed at him or possibly her.

"We'll see…", she murmured.

"Are you alright…? Is he…is he good to you…?", he whispered and took a step towards her.

"He's way better for me than you", she spat, making him stop in his track. It had been two years, but she was still just as much tired of his insulting assumptions, as she was before. Sherlock flinched at her outburst and clasped his hands together, behind his back.

"Alright…I'll see you later", he murmured and left without another word.

* * *

The next day, all of Sherlock's _friends _got together at Baker Street as per Mrs. Hudson's orders. Sherlock, John, Mary, Mrs. Hudson and Greg were already there enjoying wine, teasing each other, discussing any upcoming marriage when the door opened and Molly stepped in.

"Hello, everyone", she smiled shyly. She was holding hands with an unknown person.

"Hey, Molly", John smiled.

"This is Tom…Tom, this is everyone."

Everyone stared at Tom a bit too longer than would have been considered appropriate. Sherlock was too busy staring out the window at the waiting press outside his door when John coughed. Sherlock turned around to look at John.

"Ready?", Sherlock frowned at John. He was trying very hard to control his giggling. He decided to ignore it and stepped forward to leave, when he thought his reflection caught his eye. He blinked and stared at…certainly not his reflection.

The newcomer was tall and lean, had dark curly hair, shorter than Sherlock's, and had large pale blue eyes and prominent cheekbones. He was wearing a dark coat, not the best copy of his Belstaff, with the collar turned up and the scarf around his neck was tied the same way that Sherlock tied his.

Sherlock's eyes widened as he took his time in giving him a once-over from his feet to his head. His jaw dropped open and he turned to look at John who was grinning at him.

"Tom Wilson, at your service", Tom grinned excitedly and brought his hand up to shake it with Sherlock's.

"I hope not…", he murmured so only John could hear him, who quickly turned his back to them as he shook with silent laughter, and shook hands with Tom, "Sherlock Holmes."

"I know!", he squealed just when everyone had gone quiet. Molly blushed with embarrassment and tried hiding behind her wine glass.

"Yes, well let's go, John", he smirked at him as he made for the door, before whispering quietly in Molly's ear, "He can _never_ be me…"

Molly blushed and cowered away from him as he gave her one steely glance and left with John. Molly looked to where Tom sat, huddled between Mary and Mrs. Hudson, giggling and sipping his wine.

_I will make it through…no…we will make it through. Tom and I __**will**__ make it through._

* * *

_**This was a short chapter wasn't it...? But did you like it? The next will be a longer one, I promise!**_

_**I love reviews! So...do review! xx :)**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thankyou so much for the reviews! I'm so sorry I'm updating so late! I got lost in the Cumberwax and The Graham Norton Show and Benedict Cumberbatch...oh my gawwwwwd! It looks so real doesn't it?! I'm so proud! I feel like a proud mother, even though I'm almost half his age! x:(**_

_**I do not own Sherlock or any of it's characters.**_

_**Happy reading! xx :)**_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

"I'm so happy for you and Tom", Mary smiled at Molly. They were sitting at the same café they had visited many times before. They had so many memories there. All the arguments Sherlock and John got into, that they would sit and try to sort out in vain. And now, Molly was engaged and Mary was getting married. It felt surreal.

"I'm too", she smiled, "Anyways, you said you wanted to discuss something important?"

"Yeah, you know John and I are getting married in March…and well…", Mary coughed uncomfortably.

"Yes…?"

"I was wondering if you would want to be the maid of honour?"

* * *

Sherlock stood completely frozen and blinked repeatedly at what John had just said.

"Sherlock..?", John raised his eyebrows slightly.

Sherlock didn't react and remained motionless as he stared blankly at John.

"That's getting a bit scary now…", John fidgeted in his seat, uncomfortably.

It took a few more seconds before Sherlock's brain rebooted and he swallowed, "So, in fact…you-you mean…"

"Yes…", John encouraged.

"I'm your…best..."

"Man."

"…friend…?", Sherlock said simultaneously.

"Yeah..of course you are. Of course you are my best friend."

* * *

"Maid of honour? Why me?"

"Well, you're my best friend! And I know you'll handle all the other bunch of female lunatics pretty well."

"Alright…", Molly smiled, "Who's the best man?"

"Sherlock."

"Hell no, Mary. I am not going to be the Maid of honour. Nope. I will have to do all the arrangements with _him_, and ultimately, _dance_ with him, oh god no way!", Molly shook her head animatedly and slammed her hand on the table.

"Molly, please! John and I will make sure he doesn't do anything childish. I promise!", Mary begged and tugged at Molly's arm. Molly narrowed her eyes at Mary and stared at her for full three minutes before finally let out a sigh.

"Fine…fine!", Molly scowled and looked away just when Mary pulled out her mobile phone.

_All set here – JW_

_All set here too – MM_

* * *

_Meet me outside St. Bart's at seven-thirty in the evening – MH_

_Why? – SH_

_Why, Molly? – SH_

_Is everything alright? – SH_

_Molly! – SH_

Molly scowled at the repeated ringing of her phone. She didn't have to pick her phone and swipe the screen to know who was being so insistent. Because fifteen minutes later, the amxious detective was in front of her with a complain.

"Why weren't you replying?", he walked up to stand beside her.

"Because I'm still working and it's not seven-thirty yet", she murmured as she leaned over a corpse with an electric saw.

"But what's with seven-thirty?"

Molly whipped around, brandishing the morgue equipment in her hand, "You'll know that at _seven-thirty_! Now get out!", she snarled and jerked the saw towards him.

"It's just a piece of metal", he drawled as he leaned down and pulled the plug out from the socket, cutting out it's electricity supply.

"Fine! I know you're the best man. You should know that I'm the maid of honour. And in case you don't know, these two persons are very important for a wedding and have serious responsibilities, like deciding the venue, the clothes for the bride, groom, bridesmaids, groomsmen, decide the catering, decorations and transportation and church and-"

"And getting married...to each other", he smirked.

"Zip it!", she snarled, "So…", she closed her eyes, breathed in deeply and let it out slowly, "...we need to do all that stuff…"

"Hmmm…that'll be fun", he rubbed his hands together excitedly. Molly knew his excitement wasn't over playing dress up in front of a mirror.

"Obviously not", she rolled her eyes as she plugged the electric saw and proceeded to saw through the corpse's bone.

"I'll see you at precisely seven-thirty."

"Right…", Molly murmured. As much as she didn't want to be near him, or communicate with him, she had to be near him and communicate with him. For her friends. For John and Mary.

* * *

_It's seven-thirty. Where are you? – SH_

_I'm waiting outside. Where are you? – SH_

_Don't make me come up there – SH_

_Five minutes – MH_

_You said seven-thirty! – SH_

Molly groaned loudly at the text. Usually, she would wrap up all her stuff and leave the morgue and her office clean and organized for next day. But today, it seemed she would have to leave it messy. She grabbed her purse and rushed down the stairs and bumped into Sherlock just when he was sprinting up the stairs.

"Oh, God I'm so sorry!", Molly gasped as she pulled back and looked up apologetically. Her expression changed to displeasure when she recognized him.

"I'm not", he smirked as he took one step up, closer to her. Molly rolled her eyes and pushed him away with her hands.

"Grow up", she glowered and walked past him, through the exit.

"Ok…where are we going now?"

"Shopping."

* * *

"Oh, that one looks pretty!", Molly pointed at a full sleeved, A-line white gown. As she moved her hand, her ring sparkled tauntingly, making him wince.

"No! It's with sleeves! Look at that one! The one without the sleeves, it looks much more elegant and it will suit-",, he jerked his head towards an empire waisted sleeveless, white gown.

"No, it won't suit her. Mary's blonde and she needs to hide her pink skin to bring out her golden hair", Molly argued with Sherlock, while the salesman stood with the gown in one hand over his chest.

"She doesn't have _pink_ skin!", Sherlock whined.

"Sir is right, Ma'am…", the salesman nodded. Molly stared at him in utter disbelief.

"What?!", Molly gasped.

"I-I mean…I mean that sir is right about the gown…and-and stuff…", he stammered.

"Fine!", she stomped her foot on the floor and moved towards the groom's section, "As you are excellent at selecting wedding clothes, you should select one for your best friend as well."

"Nope."

"Why not?", she scrunched her nose in confusion.

"I did some research and found out that the best man is responsible for selecting the groom's tuxedo and the maid of honour for the bride's gown. So I thought, why not do it the other way round?", he grinned excitedly, hoping to get her approval, but instead Molly had dived into the hangers of tuxedos and was trying her best to ignore him.

"Well…? Wouldn't it be fun?", he quietly walked over to her.

"Hmmm…", Molly murmured as she pulled out a black tailcoat, grey trousers, white dress shirt, pale golden waistcoat and neck tie.

Sherlock was getting worried now. He was sure that Molly was hiding something. She wasn't bubbly anymore. She hadn't been her usual, lively self since he had come back. If Tom was hurting her, he wouldn't hold back any insult, any cruel deduction, or any kicks and punches. But he needed to know first if that was the case.

"Molly…?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think it would be fun?"

"Sherlock, do you even know how to spell fun?"

"Yes, F…U…N-"

"Shut up, we need to pay for this stuff and leave", Molly said distractedly as she handed the tuxedo to the salesman.

"Molly, is something the matter?"

"No…", she whispered and turned away towards the bridesmaid's section.

"If…if Tom is not good-"

"Is this good?", Molly whipped around with a lilac strapless gown.

"Yes…", he smiled sadly and gave up. He never gave up. Not during his cases, not during his arguments with John or Mycroft. Never. He looked to his left and caught his reflection in a mirror. He didn't need to look in the mirror at himself to figure out what he was feeling.

Ignored and rejected.

Molly caught him staring at himself with despair evident on his face. Suddenly, she felt guilty. Maybe, she had been too harsh on him. He had just been trying to talk. Molly pursed her lips and walked over to him quietly. She placed a hand on his shoulder lightly and he looked at her through the mirror.

"I'm sorry", Molly whispered as she stood up on her tip toes and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. The effect was instant. Sherlock's cheeks turned a deep shade of pink, his eyes twinkled, his back straightened, his nose climbed up arrogantly and he looked down at her with a small smile.

"It's alright. Are we done with the shopping?"

"Yes…but not the paying part…", Molly grimaced along with Sherlock at their purchase, as they both headed towards the counter, unaware of the fact that the small gesture of sentiment hadn't abated, but only alleviated, the nerves and hostility, temporarily.

* * *

_***bites nails* Umm...umm...was that...ok? Because right now, I feel like throwing one of them off St. Bart's, permenantly!**_

_**Reviews! xx :)**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**I'm back early! Yay! I had this one planned for quiet some time! I hope you like it! This is a...an...whatever M rated chapter. For those who don't know, deck chair and rocking chair are sex positions.**_

_**The song is Animals by Maroon 5 and I'm in love with it! I had to use it cause when I heard it the first time, my fanfic flashed in front of my eyes.**_

_**I do not own the song or the lyrics of the song Animals by Maroon 5.**_

_**I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters.**_

_**Happy reading! xx :)**_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

"Do you, John Watson, take Mary Morstan as your wife and promise to be true to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health and love her and honour her for the rest of your life?"

"I do."

John and Mary stood at the altar exchanging their vows while Sherlock and Molly stood beside them, witnessing the wedding.

"Do you, Mary Morstan, take John Watson as your husband and promise to be true to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health and love him and honour him for the rest of your life?"

"I do."

John turned towards Sherlock and motioned his hand towards him. Sherlock cocked his head and stared at him blankly. Molly nudged him in the side with her elbow.

"The rings", she muttered under her breath.

"Oh…", Sherlock's eyes snapped up and he quickly handed John his ring and Mary her ring. The couple exchanges the rings giddily while Sherlock nudged Molly playfully.

"Stop it", she hissed quietly.

"That could be me and yo-"

"Me and _Tom_, yes", she spat quietly, ignoring the angry stares she was getting from some of the guests sitting near the altar. She could see Tom's curly head in the far corner of the church. He knew no one and she felt sorry for him.

"You may now kiss your bride."

John and Mary turned to face each other and met their lips softly. The audience stood up and broke into chaotic clapping and hooting. Molly grinned happily as she went over to help Mary with her gown while she descended the stairs. Sherlock joined her and stood behind John.

"You're gaining weight already, John", he whispered so the only four of them could hear.

"Don't spoil it, Sherlock!", Molly kicked him in his shin, making him clench his teeth.

"Fine!", he hissed as they made it outside. John and Mary kept walking ahead, while everyone gathered behind them. Mary turned around and winked at Molly, before throwing her bouquet of flowers behind her. The colourful bouquet flew up into the sky and quickly fell into two pairs of hands. Molly's and Sherlock's. Sherlock hadn't realized it was only a girl's thing.

"I think we are quite sure who will marry whom next", Mary giggled while the crowd hooted loudly. Molly blushed with embarrassment and looked away, both of her hands clutching the bouquet tightly and Sherlock's hands wrapped over hers.

"It is customary, isn't it?", John teased.

Sherlock noticed Molly's discomfort and scowled at John. Only Sherlock could tease Molly regarding her old crush on him. He would have to have a word with him later.

"She's engaged, for god's sake", Sherlock rolled his eyes as he let go of Molly's hands. Instinctively, Molly also let go, and the bouquet fell to the ground. Every gasped with fear when it landed on the floor and looked up at Mary.

"It is bad luck for a bride if the bouquet lands on the floor", an old lady whispered. Mary gulped nervously and looked towards the waiting limo instead.

"Molly caught it, _then_ let it fall to the floor. What is wrong with you people?", Sherlock pinched his nose with irritation and took hold of Molly's hand, "See you at the reception!", he gave a fake toothy smile and pulled Molly along with him towards the limo waiting for them. Mary got in first, while Molly helped her get the tail of her gown inside. Molly got in next, followed by John and Sherlock. John and Mary sat on one side and Sherlock and Molly at the other, facing them. Molly had slid away from Sherlock as far as she could, adding fuel to Sherlock's boiling rage.

"What is the matter with you two?!", he yelled at the newly wedded couple.

"What?", they gasped and looked between him and Molly, who was busy staring outside the window quietly.

"Was what you did at the wedding, necessary?", he growled lowly.

"Molly, I-", Mary started.

"You talk to me! You don't know the limits do you? She doesn't know half the people there, her fiancé was there and you decided to ridicule her in front of strangers?!", he yanked at his hair as he rocked back and forth in his seat.

"It's alright, Sherlock…", Molly whispered

"No, it's not!", he whined.

"Sherlock…", Molly tugged at his coat sleeve till he looked at her with pained eyes, "It's alright."

There was a moment of silence while they held each others' gaze, then Sherlock spoke, "I know Tom isn't who he says he is…he's not…he's not good…f-for…you…"

Molly quickly pulled her hand back and returned to staring outside the window, "He's…lovely, Sherlock…"

"But he's not-"

"And we're having quite a lot of sex", she smiled softly at her reflection in the window. Sherlock winced and looked away.

"That's…nice…", he murmured.

* * *

"It's beautiful!", Mary gasped with surprise when they reached the reception. Everything was white, dotted with lilac. White table cloth, white chairs, white curtains, white flowers with lilac flowers, tied with golden ribbons. It looked beautiful, coming quite close to her dream wedding. Little did she know the fights and threats and arguments that led up to the glamorous decoration.

"Thank you", Molly whispered with a small smile as they walked up to their table at the front. There were eight chairs at the table, facing the crowd of people sitting around their round tables. John and Mary sat at the two centre chairs. Molly sat beside John, while Sherlock sat beside her.

"Your seat is beside Mary!", she complained.

"I can sit wherever I want to", he held his nose up high and pulled his seat with him towards the chair.

"You're a bastard", she scowled.

"I know", he smirked at her and leaned towards her teasingly.

"Tom…", she whispered and pushed him away lightly. She looked in front of her and thankfully, no one was seated and everyone was hustling bustling about.

"Let him see…", he murmured and leaned in again.

"Let him see what?!", she gasped and pushed him away again.

"Sherlock, behave", John chided as he glared at him.

"Fine", he pouted like a child that he was and looked on his left. A bridesmaid with long dark hair, olive skin and dark brown eyes was sitting beside him.

"Hello", she smiled at him.

"Hmmm…", he murmured and looked away.

"You're Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yup", he popped the P and kept looking around for a distraction.

"I'm Janine", she pushed her hand forward to shake his. Sherlock looked down at her hand, then up at her and an idea popped in his mind.

"Well, hello Joanne!", he smiled a way too big smile at her and shook her hand.

"Janine…", she corrected him, getting nervous by the sudden change in his attitude.

"Janine! Yes, Janine…you look single…mmm yes you are single and you have one fi-two fish as pets, lovely…oh and you are oh my god so tall…", he said loud enough for Molly to hear. Molly turned her head at his loud banter and clutched her fork tightly at how beautiful the bridesmaid was.

"Wow and thank you", Janine smiled at him, "But I'm not taller than you, am I?", she gave a shrill giggle, making Sherlock wince.

"Of course not! That would be too tall, but you look lovely as it is", he complimented again and again, making Molly boil with anger. Molly looked away quickly, before Sherlock caught her listening to their conversation. She successfully blocked out their chitchat and listened to John and Mary talking.

"This wine tastes horrible!", Mary coughed and placed her wine glass on the table, "Why did I select it?"

"Let's hope the cake is good", John smiled at his wife.

"What flavor was it?", Mary asked.

"…so you would prefer it pinned against the wall?", Sherlock's voice broke through. Molly gasped as her lifted on its own accord, and stabbed the fork in her hand into the back of John's hand.

"Oww!", he yelped in pain. Molly pulled her hand back and stared at John's with horror. Mary cupped John's hand and examined it carefully.

"It's fine. She just scratched your skin", she smiled at Molly and patted John's hand. Molly sighed with relief and turned to find Sherlock smirking devilishly at her.

"Did you know Janine prefers to pin her paintings against the wall, rather than the ceiling?", he whispered steamily. He saw her blush, her pupils dilate and her heart beat rate increase. He took her wrist in his hand firmly and pressed his thumb against her pulse. Molly picked her wine glass with her free hand and brought it up to her lips, less to drink it, and more to hid behind the glass.

"And she also thinks deck chairs are more comfortable than rocking chairs…", he murmured in her ear, startling her by his words. Her wine glass tipped, and the wine fell onto the belt on her dress, staining the beautiful lilac.

"Oh my god, Molly are you alright?", John gasped and yanked a napkin from the table.

"F-Fine…", she stammered, too dazed to register the fact that her dress needed cleaning.

"Sherlock, what did you do?", Mary glared at him.

"Nothing! I just told Molly what type of chairs Janine prefers!", he whined innocently. Molly gulped and quickly excused herself from the table. She ran to the bathroom as fast as her dress allowed her to. She closed the door behind her and turned the tap water on. She drenched the napkin in water and was about to press it against her dress.

"Don't do that", a baritone voice, murmured. Molly looked up in the mirror and saw Sherlock step out from the shadows.

"H-How…when did you get in here? This is…the gent's is the n-next one…", she stammered.

"Relax, Molly", he whispered with a genuine smile. He stepped forwards and pulled out a tissue paper from beside the sink. He got down on his knees and dabbed the dry tissue paper over her belt firmly, "It'll soak up any excess liquid…"

"Right…", she spluttered and held onto the sink with her hands tightly. She couldn't trust herself. She could be actually imagining Sherlock on his knees in front of her in the bathroom or if she wasn't, she was one hundred percent going to faint.

"It is me on my knees and no you are not going to faint…I won't let you…", he whispered as his fingers began pulling the strings of her belt loose.

"Sherlock…what are you doing?", she gasped and grasped his hand.

"Untying your belt. I'll tie it the other way round. That way your wine stain won't be visible…", he raised his eyebrows, waiting for her approval.

"Oh…umm ok", she let go of his hand and his hand quickly pulled her belt off her, turned it over and wrapped it around her again.

"There!", he stood up and took a few steps back to admire his work, "Good as new!"

Molly turned around to look at herself in the mirror. He was right. Her dress looked good as new.

"Thank you", she murmured with a small smile.

"Come on, everyone is waiting outside", he smiled and offered her his arm. Molly took it happily and they quietly made their way back to the hall.

* * *

"The cake is fine, Mary! It's delicious!", John pouted.

"It doesn't taste sweet enough to be called a cake! It could be a dish washing sponge!", Mary complained.

"Finish the cake, Mary. We have to dance after this", John said as he took another spoonful of cake in his mouth.

"Right…dancing…oh right, Molly, Sherlock, you do know you two have to start dancing two minutes after we have begun dancing, right?", Mary asked the two persons, one of whom was now frozen with fear.

"What?!", Molly gasped.

"Yes!", Sherlock grinned excitedly.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, John and Mary were dancing gracefully, to a slow melody, with all the guests surrounding them and awing at the beautiful couple. Sherlock and Molly stood among them too, with Sherlock staring at his watch constantly.

"What are you doing?", Molly whispered.

"Counting up to two minutes", he said distractedly.

"Git", she scowled.

"Correct", he quickly wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her nearer to the dance floor. She breathed in sharply and placed hands on his shoulders for support.

"A warning would have been appreciated!", she hissed quietly.

"Sorry", he mouthed cheekily just when the sweet melody finished and the couple bowed while the crowd clapped. Another song started playing, and this time, a pop rock song. Sherlock held Molly firmly and danced her onto the dance floor.

_Baby, I'm preying on you tonight_

_Hunt you down eat you alive_

_Just like animals_

_Animals_

_Like animals-mals_

"I'm not a very good dancer, ok…", she whispered guiltily.

"It's alright, I'll help you out", he reassured her and held her securely. They were soon joined with more couples on the dance floor.

"I didn't know you could dance…", she whispered.

"I've been dancing since I was in boarding school", he twirled her around and caught her in his arms again.

_Yeah, you can start over you can run free_

_You can find other fish in the sea_

_You can pretend it's meant to be_

_But you can't stay away from me_

_I can still hear you making that sound_

_Taking me down rolling on the ground_

_You can pretend that it was me_

_But no_

Molly blushed at the lyrics and her body tensed.

"It's just a silly song…", he whispered. He had felt her body go stiff and he knew the cause, being a competent detective.

"Right…I should go check on Tom…", she muttered and pulled away gently. He let go and stepped away from her.

"Alright…", he whispered back.

_Don't tell no lie, lie lie lie_

_You can't deny, ny ny ny_

_That beast inside, side side side_

_Yeah, yeah, yeah_

_No girl don't lie, lie lie lie_

_You can't deny, ny ny ny_

_That beast inside, side side side_

_Yeah, yeah, yeah._

The song ended with the crowd whooping cheering, unaware of the tiny detail that the best man had left the wedding early and the maid of honor was a crying heap on the bathroom floor, sans her engagement ring.

* * *

_**Phew! Oh yes! I broke the engagement at last! AT LAST I'm so happy!**_

_**Do not forget to review and follow and favourite and read! xx :)**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**AH I'm back with a new chapter! I am so sorry it took so long! There was work and family and weddings and my lazy attitude etc etc. I'm very sorry! But now I've brought the new chapter weeeeeeeee!I hope you like it.**_

_**I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters.**_

_**Happy reading! xx :)**_

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Molly twisted and turned in her bed with agitation. She had been trying to go to sleep for the past forty-five minutes or so and she still hadn't been able to. She didn't have any difficulty falling asleep unless…unless there was _something_ on her mind. She had to get it out. She would normally call Mary, but she had just recently got married and it would be very rude to disturb the newlyweds. Just when she was thinking that, her phone rang in the darkness, making her jump with fright. She clutched her chest as she tried to calm down and reached for the phone.

"Hello?", she said timidly into the phone.

"Molly? Are you alright?", Mary voice sounded from the other end.

"Oh, yes I'm fine. Why?", she frowned at her friend's odd question.

"Your voice..."

"Ah...no your phone just made me jump. Anyways..."

"Well, Molly…some of our guests told me you were crying…on my wedding reception, Molly…and you didn't tell me...", her voice was filled with hurt, making Molly's chest ache.

"I'm so sorry, Mary. It was your wedding day! Everyone's wedding day is supposed to be a cheerful and pleasant day…for them, right? And I didn't want to ruin it, Mary…", Molly whispered her explanation.

"Do you think I'm ok now that I know that the wedding day I was enjoying so much, was a terrible day for my maid of honour?"

"Yes…?", Molly gave a fake giggle.

"No, Molly. Now tell me, what happened?"

"It was nothing…just that I got the dress ruined", she giggled again, trying to excuse the subject.

"Sherlock…", Molly heard Mary sigh his name.

"No, Mary…"

"Yes…the same guests told me they saw him leave early. I mean, who leaves their best friend's wedding early? What did he do?", Mary whined.

"He did nothing, Mary! I just…just broke off our engagement…"

"Engagement? What engagement?", Mary had got off to a completely different direction, thinking Molly and Sherlock had some kind of an agreement while planning out the wedding.

"Tom and I were engaged, remember? That engagement", Molly was on the verge of screaming.

"Oh! Oh, right…sorry. Well, I'd say good for you! He was absolutely horrib-", Mary squealed with delight.

"Shut up, Mary!", finally Molly let go and she was screaming into the microphone in the darkness, "I was doing so good! I could practically see my _perfect_ future. A lovely husband, lovely house, lovely children, a lovely family a lovely life! A _safe_ life. And now just look where I'm going to end up! Don't! Just don't say it!", there was silence on the other end, then Molly continued, "Do me a favour will you?"

"Anything, Molly…", Mary replied cautiously.

"Keep him away from me. Keep him far far away from me, please…"

"I'll try my best. Do you want me to tell John?"

"Yes. Keep Sherlock Holmes a hundred and fifty meters away from me…", Molly murmured and cut the call off.

* * *

"Why hasn't the body been taken to the hospital?"

Sherlock was leaning against the wall of a room, the crime scene, narrowing his eyes at the detective inspector.

"Well, you need to examine it, don't you?", Lestrade stared back at him with a look of puzzlement on his face.

"Yes, but after Molly has provided me with her results", he spat as he pulled his gloves on and made his way to the exit.

"Where are you going?!"

"Baker Street", he called back and with one swoosh of his coat, he was gone.

* * *

There was a firm knock on the 221B apartment's door.

"Come in", Sherlock said distractedly.

"Ah, I've brought the results for you", Lestrade panted as he flopped down on the sofa with a loud, tired sigh and slid the file across the table to him. Sherlock alternated his gaze between the file on the table and Lestrade, wheezing in front of him, at least ten times before he spoke.

"Why did you bring it here?"

"Because you need to see it?"

"I-oh never mind", he snatched the file off the table and opened its cover. He stared at the lucid and clear loopy handwriting.

_Molly._

He brushed his forefinger over her name on top of the paper, when his foot slipped and he jerked from his deep-hearted thoughts and found Lestrade staring at him with concern.

"Are you alright?"

"Hmm…fine…", he coughed and quickly skim read the document within a couple of seconds and threw the file in Lestrade's lap, "Alright, now I need to examine the body."

"Right…umm…that can't be done today…I mean right now...", he said uncertainly.

"And why is that so?", Sherlock had already put his coat and scarf around him.

"Because…because…because I am busy right now. I have an important meeting and I can't let you go to St. Bart's _unsupervised_."

"Alright…then send Donovan?", he shrugged.

"She's supposed to be at the meeting too…"

"Ugh…I hate to say this but I wish Anderson was still…you know…", he coughed.

"Right…", Lestrade felt very awkward and gestured towards the exit, "So I'll go…ok…", he quickly left before Sherlock could stop him.

"Hmm…yes…", Sherlock sighed.

* * *

Sherlock had returned to his mind palace when his phone chimed.

_Meet me at St. Bart's – GL_

_On my way – SH_

Sherlock pulled his coat and scarf on and ran outside to hail a cab to St. Bart's.

Sherlock reached St. Bart's in fifteen minutes and raced up to the morgue to find Lestrade standing near a slab occupied by the particular case's victim.

"Well?", Sherlock strolled in and ran his eyes all around the morgue.

"You have the results, now the body…so…"

"Where's Molly?"

"Her shift ended."

"Right…", he scowled.

* * *

John hadn't seen Sherlock or Mrs. Hudson since his wedding, so he decided it was time he paid them a visit. When he did, he found everything in chaos. Sherlock was curled into a ball on the sofa, sulking and Mrs. Hudson was standing over him. The living room was a mess. Newspapers, dirty clothes, cigarette butts were lying everywhere.

"You get up right now, young man and clean up all your mess!", Mrs. Hudson was screamed at Sherlock.

"What's going on?", John asked.

"Ah, John! Get him to clean up all…all this, will you?", Mrs. Hudson smiled and scurried out of the room.

"Sherlock?", John threw a pillow at his back.

"What?", he growled.

"What is all this?"

"A _tantrum_, as you call it."

"You mean a childish tantrum?"

"Tantrum!"

"Right, ok…what about?"

"Molly!"

"M-Molly?", he coughed awkwardly.

"I haven't seen her in months! I don't know how she is, where she is, what she's doing, she's not even replying to my text messages!", he whined and punched the pillow John had thrown at him.

"Right…"

"Has she married that Meat Dagger git?", Sherlock sat up in fear.

"Uh…"

"So she hasn't, good but then where is she?", Sherlock sighed.

"She's fine, fine…"

"I want to see her!"

"You're not allowed, sorry."

"Why not?"

"She doesn't want to see you."

"She…she doesn't..w-want to see me..? _Me?!_"

"Yes, you. Now clean up your apartment!"

* * *

_I'm bringing Sherlock in to St. Bart's. I need you to run a drug test on him. I'm sorry, Molly – JW_

Molly stared at the message for two minutes. She wasn't scared. No. She wasn't nervous either. She wasn't angry either. She was furious. Today Sherlock might see what hell really looks like.

Molly had just finished running tests on Sherlock's urine sample and was staring at Sherlock from the furthest end of the room. She snapped her gloves off loudly and stepped away from the bench.

"Well? Is he clean?", John asked.

"Clean?", Molly turned to look at him and then walked towards Sherlock. Sherlock looked at her blankly and then out of nowhere, Molly's palm connected sharply with Sherlock's cheek. Then again. And as if the stingy feeling on one of his cheeks wasn't enough for Sherlock, Molly slapped him on his other cheek as well.

"How _dare_ you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with? And how dare you betray the love of your friends? Say you're sorry.", she chided.

"Sorry your engagement's over…though I'm fairly grateful for the lack of a ring", Sherlock held his cheek and grimaced.

"Stop it. Just stop it", she scowled. She knew where he was going and she wasn't going to let him.

"If you were anywhere near this kind of thing again, you could have called, you could have talked to me", John muttered angrily.

"Please do relax. This is all for a case", he whined.

"Sure it is. Baker Street. Now", he scowled and pulled Sherlock out the morgue, followed by other drug junkies that had come with them.

"You do know why...why he's doing this, don't you...?", Mary whispered when they were alone.

"Of course not!", Molly frowned at her friend.

"No! I didn't mean his case...I meant...he's reacting to certain changes in his life..."

"What changes? What are you talking about?"

"John, his best friend, is married and not there for his cases and then...you...he trashed his apartment a few days ago because he hadn't seen you for quite some time..."

Molly's mouth was in an "O" shape, growing wider and wider at the news.

"I'm sorry, Molly…", Mary patted her back and then Molly sighed and turned away.

"It's alright…it always is, I guess…", Molly murmured and went back to her office.

* * *

_**I'm not sure if I want Tom to be a bad guy or not. Sherlock did mention that Tom isn't who he says he is...but would you want a Moriarty reincarnation or Tom to be a bad guy, or I don't know, I'm confused. And I need help!**_

_**Don't forget to review and follow!**_

_**Thankyou for the lovely reviews! Makes me stand up a bit taller :)**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**I'm back with another chapter. And yes I am VERY LATE. I wrote this chapter a hundred times and I am still not satisfied with it.**_

_**Thankyou for the reviews and the very necessary criticism related to the punctuation marks. I have tried my best to put it right. Do let me know if there any other mistakes. Also, I try my best not to use '&amp;' instead of 'and', but somehow it just happens and I overlook it. Apologies for that as well. And as I said, let me know if there are any other mistakes. Thank you!**_

_**I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters.**_

_**Happy reading! x :)**_

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Molly couldn't believe the newspapers.

_Shag-A lot-Holmes._

She scowled when she thought over how unprofessional some journalists could become. Then she saw her name.

_Janine Hawkins_. _The bridesmaid._

She threw the newspaper away when she read something like '_the sex was amazing'_ and set back to getting ready for her late shift.

Molly was ready to leave home when her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Molly?"

"Oh hey, John. Everything alright?" Molly sensed panic in John's voice and instinctively her back straightened, ready for action.

"Sherlock's been shot…we're at St. Bart's. He's in surgery…you should come here too…he's in critical condition," he whispered. He was trying to keep his voice calm but Molly could still discern distress.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

"I'll…b-be right over…" she sniffed into the phone and ran into her room. She was frenzied by fear when she heard the news. Of all the people that could've been shot, _Sherlock_ got shot. Everyone believed Sherlock to be above everyone and everything. Unless…unless he really got on someone's nerves pretty bad. Molly shook her head as she blindly pawed her face to dry her cheeks of the barrage of tears. She kept swearing and sobbing under her breath all the way to St. Bart's, at Sherlock. First the drugs then the one sided relationship and now this. He really was a child. But what if she was going to see him for the last…

"No," she murmured and gulped down the excess saliva forming in her mouth, "He'll stay alive…he will…he has to…"

* * *

She reached the hospital, chucked a few bills at the cabbie, shouted an apology and ran up the stairs towards the reception and found John there.

"John!" she gasped out and held onto the wall next to her.

"Molly, thank god you're here! Come on," he took her hand and pulled her towards the operation theatre.

"Is he alright though?" she wept.

"I'm not sure, Molly…" he choked out as he tried to control his voice and anger.

"Did he gain consciousness or is he in coma? Or induced coma or something," Molly gripped John's arm tightly and stood frozen in front of his door.

"I don't know, Molly!" he whispered through gritted teeth, "but we need to stay calm…"

They reached the operation theatre and waited outside with Mary. A few minutes later, one of the doctors came out and pulled his mask off slowly. He then gravely looked at John, Molly and Mary.

"Are you his family?"

"Yes!" Molly exclaimed.

"Friends," John nodded simultaneously. Molly knew she was being stared hard at by John and the doctor.

"Ok…the patient suffered a critical wound in the thoracic cavity by the bullet. The bullet barely missed the aorta but the patient never gained consciousness…we are sorry to inform you…" Molly could hardly breathe. She needed something to support herself against. He couldn't leave them. He couldn't leave her. "...That the patient died at-" the doctor halted when he heard sudden commotion from inside the operation theatre. He ran in followed by John and Molly. Molly stared at the beeping heart monitor's screen. A straight green line was rapidly being replaced by deflections caused by the weak atrial and ventricular complexes. Molly brought her hand up and clutched her chest. She wasn't sure if she had felt any happier before. Of course Sherlock was being…well _Sherlock_. Faking his death even when he was unconscious.

* * *

Sherlock moaned with pain and turned to shift the morphine level to the maximum. He sighed with relief when he felt his pain subside. He knew Janine was talking. No. Babbling some incoherent…_shit_. That sounded and felt appropriate. He saw her leave and then closed his eyes. He needed nothing more than rest and Molly.

* * *

Molly quietly entered his room. She thanked the deity above, that the floor wasn't wooden and she didn't have to worry about any creaking when the tiny heel of her shoe clicked loudly against the linoleum floor. She swore under her breath and quickly looked up at Sherlock's pale and frail form. He was still asleep. His head was turned away from her and his body was covered with a comfortable blanket up to his ribs. The rest of his body was naked, except for the thin wires connecting him to various machines around him.

"Excellent," she breathed sourly and took a seat on an arm chair beside his bed. It looked quite far from him. She inched the chair closer with as little noise as possible and sat down in it again. She saw his hand lying beside him, half closed in a fist. She shook her head against the idea of holding his hand and sighed.

"You know I didn't know you before the day you came strolling into St. Bart's…I should say strutting, but anyways. I knew there was an obnoxious chap of a detective but nothing else. I knew I'd hate you because I _normally_ can't deal with arrogance," she giggled quietly as she talked out loud, "But then you bloody came to St. Bart's and destroyed _everything._ You destroyed my respiratory system and my circulatory system and my nervous system and my reprod-" she choked and coughed, "I mean…you made it hard for me to breathe, you made my heart go crazy, my mind go bonkers whenever you were around…you'd parade into my morgue as if it was yours, order me around and I'd follow yo," another giggle bubbled out of her mouth, "I killed my social life for you. I gave up everything for you. And you sabotaged everything for me, Sherlock," she fell silent. Only her breathing and the beeping of the machines could be heard. "But it made me someone better. It made me see how wrong I was going, how desperately desperate I was. That I can't trust everyone I see. I can't always see the good in people, because they rarely are good," her lips parted to let out a sob and soon tears followed, "You crushed me and molded me into someone better. I love that kind of v-vandalism. I love it…and I still and will always wretchedly love you," she gasped and hid her face behind her hands. She wept onto her hands silently. "I read today's newspaper. I'm glad you found someone. I really am. And that you two are having a good time," she giggled and sniffed simultaneously, "but…the drugs…I can't watch you kill yourself, I'm sorry," she didn't know why she had confessed her love to a sleeping man. She could really be so stupid sometimes.

Suddenly, she felt a large, cold hand on her hand. She screamed out loud as she jerked back and looked up to find a pair of big greenish blue orbs staring at her.

"Sherlock…!" she choked, "You're…aw-awake…!"

"And you're crying," he murmured and held her hand in his.

"No…umm it's just a…"

_Sob. Sob. Sob._

She swore at her tear glands repeatedly under her breath for not holding it together.

"I don't have a very good EQ," she whispered with a sheepish smile.

"Molly…" he whispered and she knew it was her que to stop trying to joke.

"Sorry…" she muttered and looked at her free hand in her lap. She hoped and prayed that Sherlock had only seen her crying and not heard her cry out all the _fangirly_ gush of appreciation, "So…how are you?"

"I have never felt better…but judging by your face, I should be the one asking that question. How are you?" he looked at her with concern and leaned towards her, failing to hide his groan of agony.

"Lie back, Sherlock," she said with an authoritative tone. He nodded and lied back. He stared at the ceiling and pulled his hand away from hers.

"Molly…?" he wheezed.

"Hmmm?" she looked at him with distress.

"What if I give up smoking?" he said thoughtfully.

"Sorry?" Molly was very confused.

"You said you couldn't watch me kill myself with drugs and smoking. And as I said before, the drugs were for a case, so we're now left with smoking and now my offer. What if I give up smoking? Will you…will you want me?"

Molly sat very still in her chair. He had heard every word. And now she was in big trouble.

"Sherlock…I-you're with Janine and I'm sure she's lovel-"

"I'm _not_ with Janine," he scowled lowly.

"But the newspap-" she argued.

"Burn them and throw them away," he kept scowling.

"Sherlock," she looked at him blankly.

"It was _also_ for a case…" he murmured.

"What aspect of your life is _not_ for a case, Sherlock?" she spat angrily.

"John and…you," he whispered innocently.

"Stop it. I have already been used enough!"

"Molly!" he yelled which silenced her. But surprisingly, Sherlock deduced it to be a wrong kind of silence, "I'm sorry...," he murmured.

"It's fine," she said grumpily and turned her head away.

"No, Molly, please listen to me…" Sherlock pleaded.

Molly kept looking away but then sighed, "Ok…"

"Will you tell me the extent of my injury?"

Molly stared at him as if he had lost his mind, "Sherlock are yo-?"

"Please?" he pouted cutely, and Molly feared she might melt.

"Ok…umm the doctor said the bullet barely grazed your aorta-"

"But?"

"But…as it grazed the aorta, I think it could have injured your carotid artery or your subclavian artery depending on the_"

"Do you think anyone could survive that?"

"No," she shook her head, "If you're asking me to praise and appreciate _you_ over that miracle than I-"

"No, Molly," he sat up slightly, "I'm not. But you're right, it was a miracle. A miracle you are responsible for. You saved my life again."

"I don't understand…"

"You told me, in my mind palace, how to reduce my blood loss and-it's a long story. The point is that you have saved my life twice. I'm indebted to you…" he took a deep, laboured breath as he looked away and continued, "I know you think I'm ridiculing you, but I swear I'm not," he glanced at Molly and found her fumbling with her hands, uncomfortably, "Did I make you nervous?," he asked gently.

"A bit," Molly nodded.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Sherlock, you apologizing repeatedly is making me nervous," she specified.

"Oh…right, sorry-I mean no, umm I'll just stop," he nodded to himself.

"Hmmm," she pursed her lips.

"I heard everything you said," he murmured as he adjusted the morphine to a much lower level.

"Of course you did…", she berated herself.

"I'm leaving the decision up to you…if you don't want to, it's fine. I'll just…"

"Just what?"

"Just…try to deal with it somehow…" he scratched his head in mild frustration.

"Like you have been up till now?" she bit her lip nervously.

"I'll leave you alone."

"How?"

"Leave London or something," he sighed.

"You love London."

"I love you too," he closed his eyes, refusing to look at any infuriated expression on her face.

"Then can you want to leave us alone?" she whispered.

Sherlock's eyes flew open and the heart monitor went berserk with the beeping.

* * *

_**I can not promise when I will return with chapter. Maybe tomorrow or maybe in another life time *awkward***_

_**Do not forget to review! x :)**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**AHA! I'm back EARLY! In this very lifetime! Yay! Oh and I bought the THE GENIUS ISSUE if you know what I mean! I am literally ogling at Cumberbatch .TIME. *sighs***_

_**Enough with the fangirling! Right! Readers! Thank you for your lovely reviews! I hope you enjoy this one as well! :)**_

_**P.S. I love Keira Knightley!**_

_**I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters.**_

* * *

Sherlock's eyes flew open and the heart monitor went berserk with the beeping.

"Do you want me to call a crash cart?", Molly giggled sheepishly.

"Flirt", Sherlock smirked as relaxed, refusing to withdraw his gaze from her.

"Oh? And what about you?", she giggled as she wiped her face, rather unattractively, on her jumper.

"A gullible, easily manipulated…detective", he grinned and earned a well deserved whack to his side. He let out a loud agonizing moan, startling Molly.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry!", she squealed and jumped up to help him. She reached towards him tentatively, and caught him grinning. But before she could move back, Sherlock grabbed her arm and tugged her towards him, "You cheat!", she managed to squeal before Sherlock pressed his lips against her lips. He brought his arms around her, holding her securely over him. They could hear the heart monitor's beeping escalate again and so Molly pushed herself away from him, getting a whine from Sherlock.

"This is not a very appropriate place, you would agree", she shakily straightened her clothes and sat down in the chair.

"Any place is appropriate", he grinned.

"Sherlock...", she made a face which sobered him quickly, "by the way, I didn't ask, how'd you get shot?"

"Doesn't matter", he replied.

"Holmes," she said warningly. Sherlock raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"I would tell you if I could, Molly. But for the sake of…our _friends_, please don't ask me," he murmured.

Molly nodded, "I'm sorry. I understand," they silently sat looking at everywhere except each other when Molly quipped, "Is the case solved then?"

"Mmm…no, not really…need to put a few pieces together still", he muttered thoughtfully.

"Can I help?" she asked gently.

"No!" he yelled and sat up by the force of his voice.

Molly sat terrified. She could barely recognize him with his face contorted into an angry lion's face. She could barely recognize him. She had seen him get angry or frustrated when he couldn't solve a case or when he saw Anderson, but never this violently. It took Sherlock a few seconds before he stopped huffing angrily at the black television screen in front of him and looked towards Molly, who was huddled back, as far as she could, in her seat. Sherlock's eyes squinted at her with confusion, then widened with the revelation and guilt.

"I'm sorry…oh God…I'm so very sorry…" he hid his face behind his hands. He peeked from between his fingers. Molly was still in a heap, "Molly, I get a bit…possessive-"

"And furious…" Molly retorted with narrowed eyes, making Sherlock smile as she had finally spoken, "Which is not a good thing."

Sherlock's face fell again, "Right…but it isn't right to involve people close to you in your professional life, is it?"

"So you're getting another pathologist to help you out? Great!" she said unenthusiastically.

"I-I didn't mean that…uh…it's dangerous for you to get near my cases…"

"That's why you seek my professional opinion on tissue samples? You want me dead?!" Molly faked a horrified expression. Sherlock didn't buy it for one second.

"Molly..." Sherlock warned.

"Sorry…but I still want to know…"

"I promise I'll let you know after I solve the case, I'm sorry", he repeated his apology and failed to notice a faint proud smile cross Molly's features. It vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

"And Janine?" she murmured. He looked up at her, narrowed his eyes and tilted his head sideways. Molly Hooper was under a serious process of scrutiny. Molly shifted uncomfortably when Sherlock finally opened his mouth.

"Well she's gone, as you can see", he scowled as he pointed to a heap of magazines on the table. He found her shifting uncomfortably still, "What's wrong?"

"D-Did you…you know…" she stammered incoherently.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "I don't know what you're talking about. Please be more precise."

"Umm…did y-you and…Janine…have s-"

"No! No, no we did not! No. All that stuff in the magazine is crap. So please, do not judge me on that one sided, egotistical article," he rolled his eyes, "I can't imagine how it would have been. In fact, I don't think I really want to," he screwed up his face in disgust.

"So…nothing happened?"

"Nope. I slept on the couch when she came over. And let me tell you, it was very agonizing to have her there. But, the case…" he pouted.

"Right…ok."

"You do believe me, don't you?" he asked apprehensively.

"Yes of course I do," she gave him a warm smile. Sherlock smiled back. Molly had rarely seen him smile a genuine happy smile. And thank God he had. Because she was melting, right there in the hospital chair.

"Now that you're out of your state of fear-" he grinned.

Molly sat up, "I wasn't afraid," she huffed as she crossed her arms.

"Mmm, maybe you weren't. But you were obviously, very jealous," he smirked.

"Nope," she turned her nose up, high in the air.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow with amusement, "Of course you weren't," he smirked.

"I really wasn't," she pursed her lips in a tight line.

"That's what I just said."

"Wha-oh…oh ok…" she was blushing like a patient with a very high fever and Sherlock, the bastard, was bloody enjoying it. Perhaps it was time for another smack.

"Ma'am, the visitor's hours are over. You have to leave."

Both of them turned towards the source of the voice and found a nurse standing in the doorway with an apologetic expression.

"Oh, yes of course", Molly stood up unsteadily, as her legs still needed time to solidify, having had melted from the intense heat of his smile. She reached back and grabbed her coat, "I'll see you later," she whispered and quickly made her way to the door, slipping slightly on her way, followed by a concerned and welcome 'Careful!' from behind her. She smiled happily and walked out clacking her heels loudly, because she wasn't afraid anymore.

* * *

Sherlock, John, Mary and Mycroft had gone to the Holmes household to celebrate Christmas. Little did anyone know that it was for more than Christmas celebrations that a few of them were present for.

Mary Watson, the bubbly, happy, enthusiastic and loving blonde woman, wife of Sherlock Holmes' best friend, had, with intent, shot the consulting detective on the night of the shooting. Sherlock Holmes had gone to Charles Magnussen's office and had seen the shooter, he recognized her and tried to reason with her, at gun point, but failed. He survived the bullet wound and tried to keep the identity of the shooter, undisclosed, but was unsuccessful in doing so. John's wife had shot him. It was unreasonable to presume anything, but if she had wanted to hurt Sherlock, she wouldn't blink an eye before hurting John either. He had to warn him. Save him. He did. But when he found out the truth from Mary's own lips, it wasn't what he had expected. Charles Magnussen was blackmailing her for her very dark and dangerous secrets. Secrets that she had left behind when she left her previous job of being a trained assassin. John was devastated, angry and heartbroken. Their marriage was at stake, but Sherlock, in a tiny corner of his heart, hoped that their marriage would survive, because he believed in Mary Watson. He had brought the couple to his parents' house because of that very reason. To make their marriage get through this.

His parents had been married for almost forty years. They had been through life's up and downs and they were still happy. They looked at each other like they have never seen a more heavenly beautiful person before. That was his intention. But Sherlock Holmes may be the world's only consulting detective, he was also very stupid.

"Why didn't you bring her over for Christmas, dear?" his mother asked curiously.

Sherlock had a very tough time explaining to his mother, that Janine Hawkins was _not_ his girlfriend or his fiancé. He had completely and absurdly, forgotten that his parents read the newspaper and the newspapers were currently not proving to be his best of friends. Mycroft, obviously, had believed, but proved to be less helpful and enjoyed the rather amusing conversation.

"Why should I, _mother_?" he scowled.

"Well she's family now, isn't she?"

"No. Not really. I hope she isn't. Have you gone after her, Mycroft?" he sneered to which he earned a slap on the back of his head from his mother, much to Mycroft's delight, "Mummy!"

"I will not have you blaming your brother for your mistake! Your girlfriend left you because of you," she scolded, "But I really would have loved to meet her. I could have fixed your petty argument as well…" he voice softened.

"She wasn't, isn't, and will never ever be my girlfriend or fiancé. Stop setting me up with people," he whined.

"You're well into your middle age and you both haven't found anyone. This is so disappointing. I should, I think, start schooling myself that I will die before seeing my grandchildren," she started weeping. Her sons groaned in honest agony. Her husband heard her sniffling.

"Boys! Do what your mother tells you to," although he really didn't know what she wanted. Peeling of potatoes probably.

"Mother…" Sherlock said gently.

"Don't talk to me!

"Mummy…" Sherlock said softly, to which Mrs. Holmes just sniffled, "I do…have someone…"

Mycroft Holmes, the ever curious, ever knowing, was smacked in the face, metaphorically, by his brother. How did he not know…

Mrs. Holmes, on the other hand, had never been happier. She was laughing and singing in the kitchen while she blabbed. And then she stopped and rounded towards Sherlock Holmes.

"Why did you not bring her here?" she waved the spoon in front of him, mashed potato flying everywhere in the kitchen.

"Uh…umm she…she had to go to her family's house so…"

"Alright…fair enough. I want you to bring her here to meet us. And have you shown her your castle of sorts?"

"Yes mother…" he drawled.

"Excellent. Now I want you to have her move in with you. And I have a family heirloom that you can gift her. And have you both talked about having children yet?" she squealed with excitement.

"No, mother!" he groaned with pain, as he smacked the newspaper in his hand on the table and left the room.

"What did I say…?" she pouted towards Mycroft.

* * *

_**This was such a fun chapter to write! Mummy slapping Sherlock. Sherlock whining like a baby lol!**_

_**Let me know what you think!**_

_**Also, will you let me know if you people want smut, or is it ok if I omit it? My smutty side's a bit rusty :|**_

_**Thank you for all the reviews! I really appreciate them! :)**_


	7. Chapter 7

**_It feels strange to be back so early...weird. Anyways, this is the last chapter! Thank you for all the support reviews! I had so much fun writing this! I hope you enjoy the last chapter as well! :)_**

**_Also, a big thank you to TheHolmesSister for helping me out on this chapter!_**

**_I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters._**

* * *

His fingers curled around the object.

The black object.

The black _gun_.

He had a gun.

Pointed at Charles Augustus Magnussen.

He could hear the helicopters and the sirens of the police cars. He could hear Mycroft's mechanic voice, repeating over and over, asking him to drop his weapon.

But he couldn't.

His hands felt glued to the gun.

And then he heard a shot.

Fired by him.

Ending in Magnussen's head.

His hand felt boneless and he dropped the weapon.

* * *

"Mycroft! Please! Just let me see her once! Only once! I beg of you!"

"Alright, brother mine."

Mycroft flicked through his phone and Andrea appeared out of no where.

"Sir?"

"Arrange a car. Sherlock Holmes misses his pathologist," he sneered.

* * *

Molly was so engrossed in the new episode of Doctor Who, that she didn't notice the door swing open and a dark shadow sneak into her flat. The shadow hovered its hands over her shoulder and lowered its mouth to her ear.

"Boo!"

Molly jumped up with fright. Toby, who had been in her lap, went flying up, touched the ceiling, and returned to the ground on all fours. He yowled at the unwelcomed figure.

"You bloody scared me to death, Sherlock!" she shrieked and threw a few cushions at him. He caught them gracefully and dropped them on the ground.

"That is what I wanted," he grinned.

"Why are you here?" she frowned. He walked up to the couch she was sitting on and flopped down beside her.

"I want a kiss?" he pouted.

"What for?" she stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

"Isn't that what couples do when they meet?"

"Are we a couple?"

"I hope so…do you not want us to be?"

She shrugged, "It's fine with me, if it's fine with you."

"Then can I have a kiss?"

"Go brush your teeth first," she pointed to the bathroom.

"What?!" he sat back. He put his hand in front of his face, blew out and breathed in. He smelled peppermint and coffee. Then it hit him, "I didn't smoke, Molly. I made a promise and I intend to keep it."

Molly narrowed her eyes at him, "Fine."

"Can I kiss you now?" Sherlock asked. He could see the way Molly's lips would quirk on the side and then drop too low then climb back up. She was fighting back her smile. "No…? Ok…I'll just leave then…" he faked a pout and slowly made his way to the door.

"Oh wait!" she squealed and scurried up to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and pressed her face into his back. Sherlock placed his large hands over her small ones and pulled them away as he turned around. She was so small but so very dazzling. "You can kiss me now," she whispered with a faint blush on her cheeks. Sherlock leaned down and pressed his lips against hers gently. In that moment, he forgot everything. He only knew that they both belonged together. Forever.

"Molly?" he whispered when they parted. Molly was breathing heavily already. That made him smile.

"Yes?"

"I n-need to tell you…something…"

"Not now…" she wrapped her arms around her shoulders and pulled him down for another kiss.

"Molly, listen…" he grabbed her shoulders and held her at a distance. Molly stared at him like a deer caught in headlights, "Molly?"

"Hmm…?" she blinked.

"I need to tell you something. You need to listen."

"You didn't come here for the kiss did you?"

"No…" he shook his head.

"What is it?"

"I am leaving London tomorrow…" he murmured and pulled his hands away from her.

"Leaving London? Why?"

"M-Mycroft…has a job for me…"

"How long will you be gone…? She whispered softly.

"Six months…" he muttered. He heard her breathe in deeply, but she stayed silent. "But Molly, I don't think I'll be returning…ever again…"

"What do you mean…?"

"Molly, I think I'm going to die…", he whispered. He looked at her tentatively and saw her looking back at him calmly. She was fighting the urge to react emotionally lest she scared him. "I wish we could have had more time together, Molly...we could've made plans for our future together…if only I had known this was going to happen, I would never have…done this to you. Please forgive me…and I'm sure you can move on…you'll meet a nice guy, way better than –" his voice got muffled when Molly pressed her hand to his mouth.

"Don't say that…" she shook her head.

He moved her hand away gently and kissed her knuckles, "Why?" he asked softly.

"Because it's not true…" she twisted her hand and pressed it against his cheek.

"I want you to move on, Molly…"

"I don't want to…", she sniffed. She had tried hard to keep her tears at bay. But do tears ever obey anyone…

"You'll die…" he implored.

"We will be together then…"

Sherlock shook his head and kissed her cheek.

"Sherlock…? I want to remember you with someone…keep you in my heart and my mind, keep you forever with me," she hoped he'd understand what she was implying.

"I don't understand…" he frowned.

"I want to live for someone who reminds me of you, gives me strength so that I don't want to die…"

Molly saw his eyes widen with surprise and fear, "Molly…"

"Please…?"

Sherlock gulped and closed his eyes. He had never thought about his posterity. Having a child with Molly was a pleasant thought. But now that he was going to die… How will she support the child.

"Molly…"

"I'm sure, Sherlock," she answered before he could verbalize his question. The reason why he loved Molly. She knew him inside out. Their child was going to be very intelligent and beautiful. His curly black hair, her beautiful brown eyes.

"Why are you so lovely?"

"I'm not. You are…", she pressed a kiss to his cheek and led him to their bedroom.

Sherlock closed the door behind him and turned around to find Molly trying to pull her jumper off, which was stuck around her head. He chuckled as he made his way over and tugged and twisted the jumper off of her. Molly blushed with a shy smile as she unclasped her bra in one swift motion and took it off.

"You're a liar, Molly…"

"What?", her face broke into confusion.

"I'm not even close to lovely as compared to you."

Molly blushed so deep that he could barely make out her hairline in the dark.

"Let me see?" she asked softly. Sherlock nodded and unbuttoned his shirt.

Molly had imagined so many fantasies involving the detective, that by now she knew exactly what she wanted him to look like. Muscular. But he wasn't. He was lean, not muscular but strong. Sparse hair covered his torso. He was so pale, she could trace his veins easily and name all of them.

Sherlock smiled while he watched Molly excitedly look him over. He knew she didn't expect what she saw, but she was He had had sex before in university. He hadn't enjoyed it one bit, therefore never thought about it again. He knew, having a mother like he had, he would end up having sex with someone. She wanted grandchildren. But he had never thought it would be in such a situation as he was in right now.

Such an inappropriate time to think about his mother. He shook his head as he unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them off with his socks and pants in one go.

"Oh my god, how'd you do that?!" she squeaked. She seemed more surprised by the fact that he took his socks off with his pants, rather than by the fact that he was standing naked in front of her.

"Practise," he smirked as he swept her into his arms and began snogging her senseless. When they finally parted, Molly gasped and wheezed.

"What was that for?"

"You talk too much," he grinned as he backed her to the bed and helped her lay back.

"Is that too noisy?" she teased.

He shook his head as he laid down beside her and caressed her arms, "No…it's a melody."

"Flirt…" she murmured. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her and pressed a kiss to her nose.

"The more you talk, the more trouble you will be in," he kissed her jaw and traced a line up to her ear with his nose.

"Trouble…oh," Molly gasped when Sherlock's mouth landed on her ear shell, "Have you read Macbeth? Double double, toil and troub-ble," she bit onto her lip when Sherlock licked down her neck and over her collar bone.

"Keep quiet, Molly…" he whispered and latched his teeth onto the curve of her neck.

"Make meeee," she squealed a bit too loudly.

"Oh, I intend to," he licked and nibbled on her tender skin till her babbling changed to pleasured moans and whimpers. Within a few minutes they both sank into an appeased nirvana of their union.

* * *

"Do you love me that much…?" Sherlock murmured as Molly stroked his hair. They were lying on the bed…Sherlock was lying on the bed, his head in Molly's lap.

"I do…", she pressed a kiss to his cold forehead.

"You were the first person I thought about when I was shot…and you will be the very first person I'll think of, again, when I…die…"

"I love you, Sherlock…"

"I've never doubted that, Molly," he shook his head, "And I hope you don't doubt my love for you either…" he leaned up as Molly leaned down and pressed his lips to hers again. One last time.

* * *

He boarded the plane with a heavy heart. He wanted to explore London. He wanted to hug John. He wanted to tell Molly how much he loved her. In the end, he always thought it wasn't enough.

He looked away from the window.

Away from his city.

He was going away from his country.

And soon, this world.

* * *

_"Did you miss me?"_

_"Did you miss me?"_

_"Did you miss me?"_

_"Did you miss me?"_

_"Did you miss me?"_

* * *

Sherlock quietly pulled his coat and jacket off as he made his way through the familiar hallway. The warm, cozy house made him feel at home. More than 221B Baker Street made him feel. Was it her scent? Her presence? Her warmth? Her laugh? The fact that she saved him from himself? Or the fact that she was his? Forever?

He tip toed to her bed and slipped under the sheets beside her. She stirred, he stiffened. She sighed and he relaxed.

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his chest carefully as he closed his eyes. He needed some well deserved, long sleep.

* * *

Molly woke up early in the morning. Only one word came into her mind.

Weird.

Her bed still smelt like him. That was weird.

She sighed sadly and closed her eyes again. She willed herself to fall back asleep but the bloody morning light. She twisted around and found a heavy warm object lying across her waist.

Must be Toby.

She turned around to find a consulting detective, sound asleep.

_I'm dreaming…_

She looked at him leisurely. His cat like eyes, bordered with thick black lashes were closed. His straight cute nose. His full lips. His mind. They all called to her. She wanted to touch everything. She lightly placed her finger on the nasal root of his nose and traced a line down to the tip of his nose.

It was light, soft gesture.

Which, obviously, woke him up.

He blinked and kept quiet, giving Molly time to understand that he was indeed back. But what he didn't realize was, that Molly thought it was a dream.

"Molly…" he murmured carefully.

"Please come back?" she whispered sadly.

"I am here…" he stretched his arms to her and held her hands in his.

"No…come back. I can't do this…"

"Molly…" he pulled her close. That's when he saw it. The white bed sheet. The white duvet. The white interior of the room. Even he was wearing his white shirt. "Do you think you're dreaming? Or that we're in heaven?"

"I don't think I could go to heaven…so I think I'm dreaming…" she murmured into his chest. Sherlock smirked as he raised his hand around her back and placed it on her shoulder blade. His fingers searched for loose skin around her shoulder and pinched. Very hard.

"Owww!" she yelped and sat up with agony.

"I wish that was a dream, Molly," he laughed loudly. Molly sniffed and massaged her shoulder around the, barely there, injury. "Come here," he said as he sat up, "Let me see," he tried to pull her back, but she swatted his hand away. "I'm sorry, Molly," he whined.

"You come back, _suddenly_, and decide, 'Let's pinch the hell out of her'," she scowled.

"I'm sorry," he pouted. She narrowed her eyes at him. But his pout. His cute boyish pout. He knew what he was doing.

"You'll pay!" she squealed and jumped at him. Sherlock caught her and fell back into the bed with a shout. Molly wound her arms around him and attacked him. She attacked him with one thing she hoped he was weak for.

"Stop tickling!" Sherlock giggled and groaned.

"You haven't paid enough, Holmes!" she laughed with mirth and continued tickling and poking him.

"I'll serve you breakfast in bed!"

"No!"

Then suddenly, Molly let go. The laughter died down. Sherlock sat up and looked at her concerned face.

"Why are you back, Sherlock?", she asked.

"They…let me go…"

"For murdering a man?"

He shook his head, "No," he took her hands in his, "You know why I am back…"

Molly nodded. She had seen the broadcast of the return of the mastermind criminal. She had been scared to death. With Sherlock gone, Scotland Yard was nothing in front of Moriarty.

Sherlock saw the anguish in Molly's eyes. He moved closer to her slowly and opened his arms for him. She smiled and hugged him tightly, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"I promise, nothing will happen to you. No one, not even Mycroft and his British Government can take you away from me…" he whispered into her hair. And she knew he wasn't lying. She nodded quietly. Sherlock knew she was barely listening so he proposed. She nodded through the half heard proposal. But as soon as she realized what had happened, she got him to promise to move in with him, and to name their first child Rafferdy.

"Rafferdy Holmes?!" he gasped.

"Yes!"

"But-"

"That's what you get for trying to fool me into accepting your proposal!" she scowled.

"But…but you do accept it, right?" he looked like a wounded puppy. Aww, she had to help a wounded puppy.

"I do…but there's one more condition," she smirked triumphantly.

"Yes?"

"Stop pouting. Any time I see you pout, I'll let Toby sleep with me in my bed," she grinned.

"Not if I get in first!" he lunged towards her and trapped her underneath him.

"That would be-"

"Excellent, I know," he murmured and leaned down to kiss her and show her how much he loved his Molly.

* * *

_**Rafferdy...lol I saw Dame Judi Dench episode of Graham Norton, and the red chair people...oh my god it was so funny!**_

_**Bye! ;)**_


End file.
